this foot, Mr. Milton, to grace his poem, and give room for his towering fancy, has gone a length beyond all that ever went before him, since Ovid in his Metamorphosis. He has indeed complimented God Almighty with a flux of lofty words, and great sounds; and has made a very fine story of the Devil; but he has made a mere je ne scai quoi of Jesus Christ. In one line he has him riding on a cherub, and in another sitting on a throne, both in the very same moment of action. In another place, he has brought him in making a speech to his saints, when it is evident he had none there; for we all know man was not created till a long while after; and nobody can be so dull as to say the angels may be called saints, without the greatest absurdity in nature. Besides, he makes Christ himself distinguish them, as in two several bands, and of differing persons and species, as to be sure they are.
“Stand still in bright array, ye saints,
Here stand.
Ye angels.”
Par. Lost. lib. vi. fol. 174.
So that Christ here is brought in drawing up his army before the last battle, and making a speech to them, to tell them they shall only stand by in warlike order; but that they shall have no occasion to fight, for he alone will engage the rebels. Then, in embattling his legions, he places the saints here, and the angels there; as if one were the main battle of infantry, and the other the wings of cavalry. But who are those saints? They are indeed all of Milton’s own making; it is certain there were no saints at all in heaven or earth at that time; God and his angels filled up the place; and till some of the angels fell, and men were created, had lived, and were dead, therg could have been no saints there. Saint Abel was certainly the proto-saint of all that ever were seen in heaven, as well as the proto-martyr of all that have been upon earth.
Just such another mistake, riot to call it a blunder, he makes about hell; which he not only makes local, but gives it a being before the fall of the angels; and brings it in opening its mouth to receive them. This is so contrary to the nature of the thing, and so great an absurdity, that no poetic license can account for it; for though poesy may form stories, as idea and fancy may furnish materials; yet poesy must not break in upon chronology, and make things which in time were to exist, act before they existed.
Thus a painter may make a fine piece of work, the fancy may be good, the strokes masterly, and the beauty of the workmanship inimitably curious and fine; and yet have some unpardonable improprieties, which mar the whole work. So the famous painter of Toledo painted the story of the three wise men of the east coming to worship, and bring their presents to, our Lord upon his birth at Bethlehem; where he represents them as three Arabian or Indian kings; two of them are white, and one black: but unhappily, when he drew the latter part of them kneeling, which to be sure were done after their faces; their legs being necessarily a little intermixed; he made three black feet for the negro king, and but three white feet for the two white kings; and yet never discovered the mistake till the piece was presented to the king, and hung up in the great church. As this is an unpardonable error in sculpture or limning, it must be much more so in poetry, where the images must have no improprieties, much less inconsistencies.
In a word, Mr. Milton has indeed made a fine poem; but it is the Devil of an history. I can easily allow Mr. Milton to make hills and dales, flowery meadows and plains, (and the like,) in heaven; and places of retreat and contemplation in hell; though I must add, that it can be allowed to no poet on earth but Mr.
Milton. Nay, I will allow Mr. Milton, if you please, to set the angels a dancing in heaven, (lib. v. fol. 138.) and the devils a singing in hell, (lib. i. fol. 44,) though they are, in short, especially the last, most horrid absurdities. But I cannot allow him to make their music in hell to be harmonious and charming, as he does; such images being incongruous, and, indeed, shocking to nature. Neither can I think we should allow things to be placed out of time in poetry, any more than in history; it is a confusion of images, which is agreed to be disallowed by all the critics, of what tribe or species soever, in the world; and. is indeed unpardonable. But we shall find so many more of these things in Mr. Milton, that really taking notice of them all, would carry me quite out of my Avay, I being at this time not writing the history of Mr. Milton, but of the Devil: besides, Mr. Milton is such a celebrated man, that who but he that can write the history of the Devil dare meddle with him?
But to come back to the business. As I had cautioned you against running to scripture for shelter in cases of difficulty, scripture weighing very little among the people I am directing my speech to; so indeed scripture gives but very little light into anything of the Devil’s story before his fall, and but to very little of it for some time after.
Nor has Mr. Milton said one word to solve the main difficulty; namely, How the Devil came to fall, and how sin came into heaven? How the spotless seraphic nature could receive infection? Whence the contagion proceeded? What noxious matter could emit corruption there? How and whence any vapor to poison the angelic frame could rise up, or how it increased and grew up to crime? But all this he passes over, and, hurrying up that part in two or three words, only tells us,
His pride
Had cast him out of heaven, with all his host
Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High.”
Lib. i. fol. 3.
His pride! but how came Satan, while an archangel, to be proud? How did it consist, that pride and perfect holiness should meet in the same person? Here we must bid Mr. Milton good night; for, in plain terms, he is in the dark about it, and so we are all; and the most than can be said, is, that we know the fact is so, but nothing of the nature or reason of it.
But to come to the history. The angels fell, they sinned (wonderful!) in heaven, and God cast them out: what their sin was, is not explicit; but in general it is called a rebellion against God; all sin must be so.
Mr. Milton here takes upon him to give the history of it, as particularly as ‘if he had been born there, and came down hither on purpose to give us an account of it; (I hope he is better informed by this time;) but this he does in such a manner, as jostles with religion, and shocks our faith in so many points, necessary to be believed, that we must forbear to give up to Mr. Milton, or must set aside part of the sacred text, in such a manner as will assist some people to set it all aside.
I mean by this, his invented scheme of the Son’s being declared in heaven to be begotten then, and then to be declared generalissimo of all the armies of heaven; and of the Father’s summoning all the angels of the heavenly host to submit to him, and pay him homage. The words are quoted already in a former page.
I must own the invention, indeed, is very fine; the images exceeding magnificent, the thought rich and bright, and, in some respect, truly sublime: but the authorities fail most wretchedly, and the mis-timing of it is unsufferably gross, as is noted in the introduction to this work; for Christ is not declared the Son of God but on earth: it is true, it is spoken from heaven, but then it is spoken as perfected on earth; if it was at all to be assigned to heaven, it was from eternity; and there, indeed, his eternal generation is allowed; but to take upon us to say, that on a day, a certain day, for so our poet assumes, (lib. v. fol. 138.)
“When on a day,
-On such a day,
As heaven’s great year brings forth, the empyreal host
Of angels, by imperial summons called,
Forthwith from all the ends of heaven appeared.”
This is, indeed, too gross; at this meeting he makes God declare the Son to be that day begotten,
